Through Your Eyes
by spyder-m
Summary: Ever wonder why Jake has been so mistreated by Brad? It's because he's just a jerk, right? Wrong. Every bully is born out of a past trauma, and Brad Morton was no exception. Rated for language/themes


A/N: I took this fic done awhile ago, along with all my other AD:JL works after losing interest in the fandom, but decided to repost this one recently because it's one I'm quite happy with. It's basically a Brad centered one shot, born out of the fact that a lot of bullies tend to act the way they do due to past trauma in their own lifes such as abusive parents etc. That's what basically inspired me to write this fic.

There are switches between Brad and Jake's POVs, but they aren't indicated, so you're just going to have to figure them on based on the dialogue. It shouldn't be too hard. The first part is from Brad's POV, then the second is from Jake's and it pretty much just alternates from there. Also, when I'm using italics that means it is a flashback scene. Just clearing that up.

This is also set four years ahead of the storyline, but for the sake of the fic I'm pretending Brad is the same age as Jake and everyone else. This is just becuse I think it helps make the plot a lot more believable.

Anyway, enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: American Dragon: Jake Long is an original series by Disney, and belongs to Jeff Geoode.

* * *

Through Your Eyes

There's only so much you can hide behind an arrogant smirk – only so much you can lock away beneath a brash, insolent aura, just like the one I seemed to plaster on freshly each day.

It was futile, really. A pitiful attempt – struggling to drag myself from the cold, empty shell my life was falling into. Living solely on the naive, forlorn hope that the shrieking, unforgettable images, that haunted me the night before were nothing more than a dream. All to be gone by the time I awoke...

It's funny how it's almost never the case.

Still, I'd like to think I at least have perseverance – I pull myself out of this suffering, day after day like nothing's wrong and just try to live my life, because it's all I've ever known. I've got nothing else.

Besides, it's not like anyone would listen to me if I said something. Yeah, who would even believe me anyway? Who would believe that I, of all people, was feeling doubtful? Who would even believe that I felt scared?

It's kind of like the Ultimate Karma, really. I made people suffer all their lives, and I don't really even know why I did it. It's just a bit of fun, something you're doing for kicks, right? I would always tell myself, never thinking any further of the matter. But then it's like, everyone else seemed to put it behind them, letting bygones be bygones, and breaking the barriers of stereotypes that divided any 'normal' school…

Not me though, no. I never changed my ways, so to speak. Sure, I guess it was pretty juvenile of me. But after years of 'tradition', it was a hard habit to break. Plus, over the years it really helped as a release for all the anger and frustration I'd vent up inside of me thanks to the shitty life I had laid out before me. Especially after I found out…

Now, I can help but wish I could turn back the clock and have been a better person, someone who was far more considerate to others... Maybe then I wouldn't have to had fallen so hard. Maybe then there might have actually been someone to catch me, someone to give me support. Dare I say it, a friend… It seems impossible now.

* * *

I guess it really is true when they say 'good things take time' - because all the good things in my life that I've finally achieved have been a long time coming. With the Huntsclan out of the picture, I was finally able to make a balance between my duties as the American Dragon, my social life and of course, school work.

However, this didn't mean I was completely free from protecting the Magical World. I still fought on quite a regular basis, which over time helped to greatly improve my fitness and strength as both a dragon and a person. Now that dad had finally learnt about the abnormal history of mom's side of the family, I didn't have to worry about sneaking around behind his back.

To be honest, since dad's discovery I don't think I've ever felt better before in my life. I feel like this incredible weight has been lifted off my shoulders, I can stand to be around him with being overwhelmed by nauseating feelings of guilt. With his watchful eye looming behind me in concern – yet at the same time, pride – I feel I've become closer to him as a son. He would always be there for me when I returned home from a mission, or patrol, offering some form of moral support, or guidance. Even helping treat the occasional battle scar I'd earn along the way.

And it was during those nights, that I would really open up to my father for what felt like the first time. I shared some of the darkest fears, deepest desires and I'd harbored over my time as the American Dragon, that four years ago, I could never have imagined myself mentioning to him. From that day fourth I saw Jonathan Long in a new light. I got witness him for who he really he was – a kind, reassuring, and surprisingly courageous man who would do anything for the sake of his family.

But the thing that I was most elated about was the fact that regardless of how much change had gone on in my life, there were so many little things I loved that stayed the same. Example? Well, for one, the bonds that I still held with my friends. After years of sticking together and watching each other's backs, in some situations more realistic than others, we'd never really changed.

In fact, as a slowly slipped the entrance doors of the school open, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and taking in the site of my trademark unnaturally spiky, jet black hair bleached green at the edges and red jacket, I realized in a way, I was still that same thirteen year old teen, still trying to contemplate the fact that they were a dragon. Yet, here I was now – eighteen, maintaining a B average in school, having sorted out all my problems in both the mythical and human worlds, hanging with the same friends I had been with for as long as I could remember, and enjoying a close, intimate relationship with the girl of my dreams.

Yep, everything just seemed to be going perfectly.

"Hey dude, did you get that Mythology Assignment done?"

…Well, almost perfectly.

"Argh, damnit man!" I exclaimed to Spud, making him jump in surprise "I knew I forgot something!" I continued, before bending down on my knees and rummaging through my backpack in a desperate attempt to find any legible sheets of paper that could've been the assignment.

No such luck.

"Crap," I breathed, returning the other pieces of work to their respective spots in my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder once more.  
"Don't worry buddy," Spud, ever the optimist, replied, leafing through his own bag. "I've got mine done. If you reword it enough, Rotwood shouldn't notice the difference."

"Thanks Spud, I owe you one!" Standing across from him, quickly producing a pen and a fresh sheet of paper before glancing over his shoulder and attempting to make completely new, original sentences out of what he'd written.  
"Uh, Jakey?" Trixie said across from me, as I copied Spud's work out "You do know that's Spud's work, right?"  
"Yeah," I laughed in response "But hey, it's a lot better than going in with nothing, believe me. Rotwood still completely insane, he would-"

"You still in trouble with Rotwood?" I felt an icy, yet very enticing tone murmur gently into my ear, interrupting me, as two slender arms engulfed themselves around my waist from behind "I thought you'd had that long since 'sorted' by now, dragon."  
"Guys," I replied, with a smirk from ear to ear "I've got a little 'Amdrag' business to take of here. You mind if you give us a moment?"

"Yeah okay, dude," Spud replied, as he slowly made his way off down the hall with Trixie just across from him "I dunno what you're so worried about though. I mean, I don't see any… Oh."

"Aw. So, is the big, strong American Dragon afraid of what his Mythology teacher will do to him?" Rose teased from behind me, her arms still slung comfortably around my waist.

I shuddered in response, a chill running down my spine at the icy tone she still took when pronouncing that word. I was overcome by a sense of longing at the sound of it. For it now longer contained the deadly venom of hate she'd harboured for the American Dragon in all those years past, but was now consumed by a tender, passionate yearning.

"Heh, you wish baby," I eventually replied with a roostery grin, getting back into character as the 'Amdrag' "Actually, I'd be a bit more worried about my own safety right now, if I were you," I added with a suggestive wiggle of my eyebrows.  
"Oh really?" Rose said, flashing me a smirk of her own "Well, do your worst, dragon."

"I was hoping that'd be your answer," I replied with one final, overly-exaggerated, brash grin. Before glancing carefully over the perimeter around us to make sure no prying eyes were around to witness the unique experience that was about to take place.  
Once I determined it safe, I struck, without even having to utter my trademark catchphrase. I felt a fiery sensation cascade from my lower body, as one of my mythological side's characteristics became one with my human form.

It wasn't much longer before Rose let a small cry of surprise as a dragon's tail much faster and stronger than she had remembered it being, suddenly wrapped around her form, pulling it against my own. I caught her quickly in my open, expectant arms, her face falling mere inches away from mine.

Even after the years together, I still felt a breath hitch in my throat at the sight of her standing before me. It was probably her eyes that attracted me the most. Those two stunning, oceanic spheres that were framed perfectly by her soft, golden hair falling in bangs around her gorgeous face.

"Yeah," I replied in a much more tranquil, content hush. Still frozen as I admired the beauty before me that I was lucky enough to hold such a strong, loving relationship with "I like it much better this way.  
"Me too," Rose eventually spoke softly, before her soft lips met mine gently, albeit passionately, while I moved my hands up to run them through her hair loving, more than happy to return the kiss.

It was at that moment that he decided to show up. Lumbering down the hall carelessly. Not concerned about anything, object or being, that may lay in his path. Which as a result, lead to him bumping straight into Rose and I, interrupting our – shall we say 'love session' – much to my dismay. I spun around angrily, expecting an explanation, but receiving the complete opposite.

"Watch it, geeks," Brad said in his usual arrogant, irritated tone, before lashing out roughly with a shove to my back.

I stumbled forward slightly at his unexpected attack, bumping into Rose and causing her to fall backwards. However, thanks to the supernatural reflexes that came with being the American Dragon, I managed to notice this, and quickly slung my arms around her waist again, preventing her from falling forcibly onto the floor.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, once Rose realized she was safe in my grasp, no longer falling, and opened her eyes slowly.  
"I'm fine," she replied, letting out a sigh of relief "Thanks."  
"No problem," I replied, helping her slowly to her feet "Now to return the favour."

"Jake!" Rose called, hoping to stop me before I did anything too stupid. But I didn't listening. I didn't care if he tried to hurt me anymore. I was perfectly capable of defending myself, and after all the years of crap I'd taken from him, his attempt to hurt Rose, an innocent young woman, was the last straw.  
"Hey!" I called out to Brad, loudly and assertively enough to draw his attention "Why don't you watch it?"

I've seen typical high school fight scenes develop in movies and T.V. shows before, and it all just seemed so cliché. 'David and Goliath', the one underdog kid finally standing his ground against the 'top of the food chain' so to speak. But as Brad march angrily toward me, his fist clenching and knuckles tightening fiercely – my outburst also having attracted the attention of the entire hallway, resulting in a crowd of kids, seniors, freshers, and everyone else in between forming around us – I realized it wasn't as far from the truth as I had first thought.

I wasn't afraid, and I wasn't backing down anymore. With my recent growth spurt I could stare Brad straight into the eyes, face to face, emphasizing the built up frustration in my own dark, profound, pools. While his body still remained of tree trunk like quality, over my years fighting as the American Dragon, I had developed a trim, muscular physique, one that had proven to be very efficient in hand to hand combat situations very similar to the one that may be facing me any second now.

"What did you say?" Brad's deep, obviously ticked voice growled, leaning in as close as he physically could, as if trying to challenge me; as if I hadn't realized it was him first hand and was suddenly going to bolt off running right now… Fat chance.

"I said 'Why don't _you_ watch it?' Bradster," I seethed, before stepping towards him and returning his shove with an equally forceful and demanding one of my own.  
"Why?" Brad shot back cynically, as he regained his balance "Am I interrupting the little make out session between you and your girlfriend? I wouldn't worry about it if I were you, Long. She's probably just two-timing you, after all."

"Oh and I'm sure you'd know a lot about that sort of thing, wouldn't you Brad?" I snapped back angrily  
"No, not really," he replied "Just enough to realize that any sane human would if they had to pull shit like that with you on a daily basis."

"Man, would you just get off my back for once!" I exclaimed, glaring Brad dead in the eyes "God, it seems like everyone here has grown up and moved on, except you! You're still the same asshole you were when we were freshers! You won't leave me or any of my friends alone for five minutes and just let us live our lives in peace like we're pissing you off just for being alive! Seriously man, what the fuck is your problem?"

A hush fell upon the hallways. Even as the words had left mouth I'd known I was crossing a boundary, venturing into territories no one had dared go. Some people would occasionally stand up to Brad like I had just a few minutes ago, but not one of them, not even in their wildest dreams, had imagined saying something like that to him. It seemed like every eye was gazed in our direction, watching and waiting for what was bound to happen next.

I stood facing Brad, still trembling with anger, my hand clenched tightly in a fist. I knew what I'd said had struck a chord somewhere inside of him, yet the vague, distant glance written upon his face was one I struggled to describe, let alone interpret.

"You'd never understand." He stated simply, in the coldest, most emotionless voice I had ever heard. Before turning and heading down the hall, every pair of eyes in the room watching his suddenly slouched and vulnerable form, swing the door of his next class open carelessly and trudge on through it.

"Come on, Jake," Rose said, taking my hand and shooting a quick, deadly glare at any other bystanders still expecting a punch up to break out "Forget about him."  
"He just-," I began, completely baffled by what had just taken place "What the hell…"

I gazed down the hall, in the direction of the door that had just gently slid closed, struggling to contemplate what had just gone on. Somewhere along the line, the words Brad and I had exchanged really hit something inside of him hard and seemingly knocking all the confidence and arrogance he possessed completely out of him. As if it was some kind of weakness of his…

"Just don't worry about it," Rose continued, knocking me from my trance "He's just being Brad. He's just being a jerk."  
"Yeah," I said eventually, shaking my head, supposedly dismissing the idea "Yeah, it's probably nothing." Though I sincerely doubted that that was the case.

However, I wasn't given much further time to think it over as reality set in and the bell indicating our first class rang, knocking the entire school ground of kids back into their daily routine.  
"Well," Rose said "I've gotta get going, but I'll see you after class, okay?"

"Yeah, see you then," I replied, before leaning in closely and placing a soft, chaste kiss upon her lips. We went our separate ways as I grabbed up my books and my Mythology assignment that still only consisted of half of Spud's information rewritten in a violent scrawl.

I cursed myself, but tucked the slip of paper away with the rest of my belongings anyway, deciding it was better to walk in with something unsatisfactory, than to walk in empty handed.

* * *

_"Mom? Dad? Are you guys there?" I called, opening the door with an audible creak, as I peered down the hallway, searching for any signs of life._

_It was late… I should've been home hours ago. I'd just completely lost track of time, they were going to be so mad._  
_"Hello?" I called once again._

_No answer…_

_"That's weird…" I said to myself, checking my watch. There was no way they were still out. It had already passed midnight._  
_I decided to shrug it off, and made my way further into the house. I slipped my jacket off, before strewing it casually over the head of the couch in the living room, as I continued to search the remainder of the house for my parents._

_My footsteps trailed down the hallway, their echoes becoming deeper and deeper with every step I progressed. At the end of the hallway lay my parents' bedroom and I as I grew closer I suddenly became aware of an eerie, discomforting presence. It was someone's voice, pleading – in fact, almost moaning – desperately, as if experiencing the worst agony imaginable._

_A chill crossed over the surface of my spine, in a slow, merciless trail, as every hair on the back of my neck stood up. Though fear was screaming at me to get out of there immediately, curiosity and desperation urged me on, further and further into the deep, dark crevasse this once very familiar hallway had turned into. I was determined to find out what was wrong, and if I could be a form of aid in anyway. For, I knew that voice._

_It was the voice of my mother…_

_"Holy shit…" I breathed, as I stared through the doorframe of the bedroom door I'd opened instinctively, without even realizing it._

_The sight that lay before me sent extreme surges of emotion through me, I had never witnessed before in the past. Fierce, overwhelming anger, bone-chilling fear, a mind sickening state of nausea that made my knees feel as though they were struggling to hold the weight of my own body up._

_It seemed to appear before me in random flashes – the brushed and scratched skin, the pained expression written upon her face, his limps lashing out wildly, violently, continuously. Replaying over and over in my head, as if in slow motion. But the one thing that remained constant the entire time was the vulnerable, weak position she lay in, as she squirmed and shrieked, trying to fight out of his vice grip in hope of avoiding further beating._

_Somewhere along the way, my gasp had drawn his attention, immediately silencing his actions, as he looked over and saw his eighteen year old son, who he had now scarred emotionally and psychologically for life._

_"Brad, whad'a you doing here?" my father's voice called. It sounded distant and slurred, as if he wasn't completely in control of what he was doing._

_It wasn't much longer before I noticed the shattered bottles lined up by the bed's edge, the inebriated tone of his voice and the near glazed over look in his eyes that I quickly drew the conclusion – he was drunk, physically incapable of clear contemplation._

_"What the hell have you done?" I shrieked, feeling my blood boiling more and more by the second._  
_"It's n-, it's nothing," he stuttered lamely "Go back to bed now."_  
_"Nothing?" I exclaimed furiously "Nothing? What are you talking about? It's clearly not nothing, you were practically raping her you fucking psychopath!"_

_I almost immediately began to regret what I had said. Given the behaviour of my father I had just witnessed earlier and the number of bottles that were emptied alongside the bed, I began to realize I chosen the wisest time or way to voice my opinion to him._

_"Get out…" he spoke in a surprisingly calm voice. Thinking back now, maybe I should've what he'd said. I could've snuck out without angering him further and called the cops before he realized what was happening. But I wasn't thinking clearly and all I cared about now was keeping him away from mom._

_"No," I said, standing my ground in front of him, despite the sense of doubt evident in my voice "I won't."_  
_"I said 'Get out'!" he snarled again, grasping the nearest item to the bed that could be used as a weapon – which to my bad luck, turned out to be one of the many bottles strewn along the floor – and hurled it towards me ruthlessly._

_I staggered out into the hallway desperately, pulling the door shut behind myself as I went. The sound of glass bottle shuttering into pieces against the other side was the last thing I can remember hearing before my legs buckled and I collapsed to the floor, falling on my side as I realized the contests of my stomach would soon follow suit._

* * *

"Hey," Rose called from a bench across from me, her voice immediately drawing my attention. I'd just come out of my last class for the day, while she'd finished off early and had decided to wait around for me so we could hang out.

"Hey Rose," I replied, cheerfully. Happy to see her after the exhausting day I had just faced.  
"So, how did it go?" she asked, as she took my hands in her soft, warm ones, and I happily obliged.

"Apparently Rotwood seems to think my 'abysmal, indecipherable scrawl did not meet the standards required of the educational study of Mythology and will result in a deduction of twenty percent from my overall grade until the assignment is resubmitted as expected'" I drawled, obviously frustrated.

"Ouch," she replied, chuckling half-heartedly "I guess there's no way I can make you feel any better, huh?"  
"Well," I said with a grin, leaning in closer and pressing my forehead against hers "I wouldn't say that."

"Gez, you two didn't get enough in this morning?" a voice that instantly caused my blood to boil called.  
"Spoke too soon," I muttered angrily, before turning away from Rose to glare at its owner "What do you want, Brad?"  
"Oh, nothing," he replied "I was just hanging around, I've got just as much right to be here as you do."

"Yeah, but shouldn't you be off fighting over pig skin with a bunch of other homophobes like yourself, right about now?" I asked, checking my watch to see it was about time that football practice usually started for Brad.  
"Shouldn't you be off getting deported along with the rest of your family?" he smirked in response; his arms folded indicating he wasn't intent on moving a single muscle.*

"Man, fuck you," I snarled, lunging at him immediately and tackling him roughly onto the grass. I grabbed his left arm, firmly and tried to pin it down, before reaching for the other, but he managed to throw me off of him, and into the dirt as well.

I struggled back to my feet almost simultaneously to Brad, who advanced forward and swung clumsily at my head, but I side-stepped his attack quickly, retaliating with a rapid, violent punch of my own right into his abdomen, knocking the wind out of him completely. Brad doubled over, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath, as I pulled my fist away slowly, reveling in the satisfying feeling that had accompanied hitting him.

I lingered momentarily, as Brad caught his breath back, before wrapping my knuckles firmly into his right cheek, with a sickening thud, sending him crumbling to the ground.

"Jake, stop!" Rose pleaded desperately, running forward and standing between Brad and myself, as he pulled himself up to his knees and spat a thick patch of blood onto the ground, the heavy, red liquid spilling from his upper lip.

"Why?" I scowled at Rose, leaving Brad momentarily and turning towards her in confusion "All he's ever done is treated us like absolute dirt, and I'm not just going to sit back and take it anymore!"  
"It's not like I do it for no reason," he replied, after having finished producing another mouthful of red coloured phlegm "It's not like I'm just doing it for my own pleasure."  
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" I shot back, still livid over what had just taken place.

"I told you," he replied stubbornly, as he pulled himself back up onto his knees "You wouldn't understand-"  
"We'll never have a chance if you don't even try to tell us," Rose broke in, trying to be the voice of reason in this situation.  
"I don't feel like it-"  
"Well, I'll tell you what Brad." I exclaimed, cutting him off once more "I don't feel like having to go through every day of my life having to put up with your crap. I've got enough going on in my life already. So you can either tell me what's going on or just stay the f*ck away from me."

He glanced up at me as I finished, a look of hurt, yet also empathy and understanding in his eyes. But despite the expression crossing his face, no words formed in his mouth. He just continued to gaze at Rose and I blankly, completely unsure of how to react. But after a few moments of realizing we both had nothing more to say, Brad did the one thing no one had ever been able to image him doing. For the first time in his life, Brad Morton opened up to someone.

"Alright fine," he replied eventually, taking a deep breath, and wiping what was hopefully the last trail of blood from the corner of his mouth. He pulled himself slowly back up to his feet and dusted himself off before anything else was said.  
"It's my mom…" he began "Well… I guess, it's more like my parents in general."

"Yeah?" I replied, motioning for him to expand on what he was saying, as I began to grow impatient.  
"It happened a few months ago," he began, his voice appearing weak and vulnerable, exactly like it had been earlier today "I was coming home from a party. It had gone on real late, and I was out way passed my curfew. When I got home, I couldn't find my parents anywhere. After having gone through the entire house, I guessed that they must've been asleep, and went into their bedroom to try and defend myself, and tell them I was sorry for losing track of time."

"But when I went in," Brad continued "I found my dad in there, drunk out of his f*cking skull. There were bottles everywhere. I wasn't that bothered by it, until… Until, I saw my mom… She was just lying there, completely covered in scratches and bruises. I almost didn't want to believe it, but with the way he was behaving it was obvious my dad was the one who drank all that alcohol, and that he was the one who was doing this… I almost didn't want to believe it. But it was obvious he… He…"

"What?" Rose said, in an attempt to encourage him on.

"… raped her," he finished, blinking back a few stray tears that were cascading slowly from his eyes.

"Holy sh*t…" I stuttered, completely in awe of what I was hearing "I, I-"  
"Shocked, Long?" Brad replied, his voice suddenly dripping with sarcasm "Yeah, that's right. The Bradster, the bully, the jerk, has real, human feelings."

I felt my blood boil again, but my feelings of anger were soon diminished as Rose's hand brush mine gently from behind and I looked over my shoulder to witness the look of remorse in her eyes. I took a deep breath and willed myself to come down. It was alright, he had every right to be upset. It was understandable.

"… I'm sorry," Brad broke out eventually, after taking a moment to maintain his composure "I just… Haven't been myself lately."  
"But that's just the problem, Brad," Rose began "No one knows who you real are. You've let this build up inside of you, and turn you into someone you're not."

"It just seemed hopeless," he replied in a pitiful tone "It still does. I mean, I just didn't think anyone would believe me, let alone care. Especially back then when I was the jock, the tough guy. No one ever expected me to be afraid…"  
"Dude, this has gone on for too long," I exclaimed "You've got to tell someone!"

"Who?" he shot back desperately, almost in a cry "Who's going to care?"  
"Don't be stupid, Brad," Rose added "There are lots of people who are not only going to care, but are going to want to know. If not for your sake, for your mom's! Call the cops, anyone!"

"Sure, I could call the cops," he said, immediately dismissing the idea of calling for help again "But what are they going to do? It's not like I've got evidence that proves my father's done any of this. For all they now I could just be some punk kid trying to get a few laughs at their expense; and with a reputation like mine, who could blame them? Sure, I might be able to call the cops, but who's going to be able to support me when members of my own family are the enemy?"

"Look man," I began, actually stepping forward and placing my hand upon the shoulder of his hunched, depressed form, in an attempt to comfort him "I know we've never really seen eye to eye. But if there's one thing I can stand it's people who tried people like dirt just because they're weaker, or hold some lower position of authority. It's why I always despised you. But now I understand why you acted the way you did. It wasn't your doing, it was your father's. He made you act this way, he's the reason you never moved on like everyone else. So if it's help or support you want, if it's a friend you need. We'll be there for you…"

"So you're saying that even after everything I've put you guys through, you'd still help me?" he asked quietly, his voice almost resembling that of a young child "Do you really mean that?"

"Yeah man," I replied sincerely "I honestly do…"

* * *

It wasn't until this moment, this particular time in my life that a simple process like picking up a phone, dialing in a common, everyday number and waiting for someone on the receiving end to answer, felt like years in the making.

I felt physically sick. Even though I knew what I was doing would only aid me I still feared the consequences that could arise from me getting help. What if my father found out I was reporting him? Would he lose control at me too? What if there was no way I could prove he was guilty and he just kept on doing this to her? It's amazing how even the slightest amount of doubt can make a person completely blow things out of proportion.

My fingertips drummed against the surface of the coffee table before me as I nervously awaited for an answer on the other line.

"Hello? 911," the voice on the other side of the line answered clearly.  
"Uh…Hi," I replied in a stutter. Before swallowing, and continuing "My name is Brad Morton… I, I'd like to report a case of assault."

And then, as if completely on que – all the doubts, all the fear inside of me, completely went away and my confidence finally returned. Because now, I knew…

Everything was going to be okay….

* * *

So yeah, hope you enjoyed reading that... Or re-reading it, if you'd seen it before. Please R&R! :D

* For the record, none of these generalizations are my actual own opinion. This is not how I feel about people of Asian descent or people who play football for that matter, I've got no problem with either of them, or any other cultural differences that exist. I just needed insults about the backgrounds of these characters that the other would find offensive. So please, don't take offense, or flame me as though this is how I actually feel, because it isn't. Thanks.


End file.
